


this night has opened my eyes

by apocalypsedreams



Series: through hell and high tide [3]
Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Fluff, Panic Attacks, also he loves science, but mike wants to show her the world, eleven is back from the upside down, i'm trash, mike is a nerd, she is still a lil bit broken, shining shimmering splendid
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-03
Updated: 2017-01-03
Packaged: 2018-09-14 12:17:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9181075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/apocalypsedreams/pseuds/apocalypsedreams
Summary: All too suddenly, she was aware that at thirteen years old, this was her first New Year’s celebration.





	

_December 31st, 1984._  

Her hands impulsively reached up to her muddy-brown pixie-cut as she tugged at the strands and attempted in vain to prevent them from curling. In the Upside Down, it had been lifeless; cold. Nothing grew in the darkness, and even her closely-trimmed hair had practically halted until she had returned, having spent almost a year in that alternate world, missing the home she had only briefly experienced beforehand. Now, the strands were growing fast, awkwardly, something she was both thankful for and self-conscious of all at once. Glancing into the mirror in the hallway, her ghostly fingers skimmed over her fair cheeks and her lips. Nancy had put makeup on her upon request, insisting that “you should always go into the new year feeling like your best self”. She wasn’t sure if a pale pink lipstick and blush were both necessities for her “best self”, but it made her feel prettier regardless. Along with the copious things she had learned over the past two months of being home, she had recognised from others that makeup makes you prettier – makes you feel normal, even – if only temporarily.

Next, deep brown pupils examined her dress as she fiddled with the collar restlessly. It was a Christmas present from Joyce; the result of saving up a little bit extra for an honorary daughter. It was long-sleeved and navy, flowing down to her knees, with a peter-pan collar of the same fabric. She had shyly gushed over it just six days earlier and secretly vowed it was her favourite present, narrowly beating the waffle iron Hopper had given her as he promised that homemade was even better than Eggos. She wasn’t entirely convinced yet.

She could have easily gone into the new year by herself, standing in front of the mirror and nit-picking, but Will had curled his head around the doorframe in the living room and was calling for her to join them. “Come on, El! The ball’s about to drop!”

Everyone kept saying that. She had asked Joyce on the way over to the Wheelers’ household about New Year traditions – so not to look stupid in front of the people there – but they hadn’t covered that topic. She gave herself one more once-over and took sheepish steps into the Wheelers’ living room, but instantly felt the desire to curl up and walk straight back out. The Wheeler and Byers families always did New Years’ together – apparently it had become a sort of tradition when Mike and Will were born – but there were many faces she didn’t know. Joyce had mentioned the word “party” a few times, but in all truth, Eleven had never been to one. It was overwhelming. There were a handful of people around the same age as Mike’s parents, including the parents of Lucas and Dustin – who she had timidly met beforehand – but altogether, the room was packed, and overflowed out into the front room. Through the currents of chattering people, Eleven could just about see the TV, which featured a shrill woman donned in a glittery jumper with shoulder-pads and a blonde man to her left, speaking meaninglessly as a way to fill the time. Karen Wheeler swerved past her with plates of champagne, handing them out hurriedly as someone thrust a champagne flute into Eleven’s hand. She stared down into the glass, confused.

“Don’t worry,” A familiar voice laughed as she was nudged on the shoulder, and she turned, scared and dazed, to Dustin. “It’s just apple juice.”

She nodded slowly and dismissively, looking down into it, about to take a sip when Lucas patted her on the other shoulder.

“Not yet, El – the ball hasn’t dropped yet!” He spoke monotonously as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. Once she had returned from the Upside Down, she and Lucas had completely moved on from all of their differences, but the way he taught her things wasn’t as soothing as Joyce or as comprehensive as Mike. The boys told her that it was just Lucas’s personality, but she still took the jab with a tinge of embarrassment. All too suddenly, she was aware that at thirteen years old, this was her first New Year’s celebration.

And, again, that repetition of the ball dropping. Her brows knit together in confusion, turning to Lucas again and murmuring too quietly under the loud voices in the living room: “Ball…? Who dropped… a ball…”

“Fifteen seconds!” Nancy hollered from the other side of the room, where she was hanging back with Jonathan. As she was doing Eleven’s makeup, she had blurted out that Steve was at a different party with people from school, and that she would have gone if not for the Byers-Wheeler tradition. Eleven didn’t understand much about the relationship between Nancy and Jonathan, especially with Steve still in the picture. Mike had dismissed it with a groan, saying it’s “just annoying teenage love triangles”. She wanted to press further, but from what she sensed, Nancy wasn’t even sure herself.

Before she knew it, the countdown was beginning, and the seemingly limitless buzz in the room became deafening. Conversations were silenced mid-sentence as the swirling crowd of people began to count down from ten. As more filed into the room still, trying desperately to get a glimpse of Times Square, she was nudged and wedged between Dustin and Mike, the contact with Mike’s polo shirt sleeve causing her cheeks to burn up. He glanced at her shyly and offered a grin as he joined in: “Seven! Six! Five! Four!”

Eleven was gazing around her, deep brown eyes weaving, wide-eyed, past the grins and shouts. The final three numbers resonated in a blur and reflected off the walls like beams of light and energy.

“Happy New Year!”

Eleven’s eyes widened like a deer in the headlights as the people around her cheered and clapped, blowing party horns, hugging and kissing those around them. Dustin and Lucas bellowed along with others shouting and hailing the New Year. It seemed foreign as people cheered over the passing of an hour, but she hoped that after another year, she would get the hang of it. Will patted her on the shoulder softly and wished her what everyone else in the room was already saying. She smiled politely, and was about to speak.

Her blood went ice cold.

A bang from outside made her skin shiver immediately, heart pounding and lungs filling with air, becoming unbearably uncomfortable and overwhelming all at once. The loud noises pierced through her ears, one after the other. Her eyes grew wide, unmoving, warm in fear. She remembered. She knew. The noises continued. Her breathing hitched and her throat began to tighten, and she used her last remaining breath to apologise as she barged out of the room and into the hallway, running up the stairs with shaking legs.

The images were showing now. Benny falling to the floor as the bad woman fired unforgivingly. The bad men firing at the monster. Papa leading and training them; training them to fire, training them to kill, training them to find her. The memories synced with the agonising noises outside. Every bang was a puncture to the skull, every crackle, the fracture of nerves. Why weren’t they moving? Why weren’t they panicking?

She was well away from the living room now, and the babbling voices used to cushion the blow had vanished. The severity of each noise had increased. Upstairs, she walked with trembling feet as trembling hands skimmed the wallpaper, trying to find her way. Her mind was spinning. Her breathing returned, fatal. There wasn’t enough oxygen in the world to put her body to rest. The air around her was toxic and bare and nauseating, and yet, she couldn’t help but take it in. As she rushed absent-mindedly into Mike’s room, she tried desperately to remember how Hopper had taught her to deal with this burden before – _in, out, in, out_. She tried to replicate it. It was a poor attempt as she gasped, hitched and hurried. Another shot from outside saw the pace doubled, toxic oxygen filling her trapped lungs, every breath more fatal than the last. She clutched her head with quivering fingers, tears starting to spill and making her throat close up more. Choking and spluttering on whimpers she tried desperately to hide, she opened the closet and curled up inside it, boxed in as the shots rang out still.

She heard a familiar voice calling her from downstairs. Another bang and it was immediately forgotten.

The voice called and searched with the frantic patter of footsteps, but Eleven struggled to answer it as she tucked deeper into herself, her lungs pounding against her ribcage as her brain became foggy. The mantra of “El?” now reprised outside the room. She was shivering and whimpering and going insane over the gunshots, her arms crossing over her face and locking her head unforgivingly onto her wobbling knees.

The closet door opened.

“Please… don’t…”

“El! It’s me!” Mike’s voice was weightless but fearful as light flooded into the cupboard. “Are you okay?”

Her head lifted off her shoulders as her lip began trembling. “Mike… the bad men…”

“The bad men? What’s wrong?” He slowly began to kneel down to her level, not wanting to overwhelm her but frightened for what had happened.

Eleven didn’t stop shuddering, and shook her head. “I can hear them… the sounds-”

“What sounds, El?” Mike pressed in concern, wanting to reach out and comfort her, but a noise sent her flinching and breathing frantically again. Tears flooded down her cheeks as she began her silent crying.

“The sounds…” She whimpered, the tears flowing unremittingly now as she shuddered. “The gun sounds…”

Another bang echoed through the house from outside, crackling as it fell into the night, and Eleven flinched back into herself. Mike comprehended it all at once.

“El, it’s okay. They aren’t gunshots. They’re fireworks.” He smiled slightly, hoping she’d lift her head up from her knees and understand that there was no danger. “It’s okay, you’re safe. We’re all safe. Nobody is going to get hurt.”

She lifted her head up slightly, looking at him through glassy eyes. She was still fearful and sceptical of his reassurances, and when another boom echoed from outside, she shivered again and her chest heaved with her quickened breathing.

“It’s okay, it’s okay, don’t worry.” He spoke softly, trying desperately to pull her out of this state. “No one is going to hurt you, El. The bad men are gone.”

She raised her chin up as it balanced on her knees, her cheeks glistening, bloodshot eyes beginning to trust him. “Promise?”

“I promise.” Mike nodded. Her eyes squeezed shut as another bang went off. There was a glimpse of sadness as he observed how much she was hurting, but he recovered it with another smile. “I know fireworks can be super loud and scary, but they aren’t going to hurt you. I promise.”

Eleven tried to normalise her breathing and the shaking in her limbs, sniffing and watching him carefully. After a while, she murmured softly as a new thought rose to mind. “Fire… works?”

He smiled. “Yeah, fireworks. They’re like these things you can get that launch colours into the sky.” There was a silence as El watched him, nodding slowly as she swallowed some of her tears. “Do you, um, do you want me to show you?”

She looked up at him, sniffing, cradling her knees in her arms. She blinked slowly and sighed. Her breathing was still shaky, but it was becoming easier. “Yes.”

“Okay. Uh, give me your hands.” Eleven did so, as her cold and nervous fingers met his, slightly sweaty, and he pulled her up slowly until she stood up out of the closet. He led her over to his bedroom window, reassuring her whenever there was a sound from outside. There was a silence for a second as the two stood there, filled only by the muted chit-chat from downstairs, where the party was still going on. Then, carefully, Mike lifted his hands and slowly curved them around her head from behind, touching her mousy-brown hair as the sides grazed her cheeks. El flinched at first, then slowly relaxed and tried breathing normally, realising what he was doing. He was trying to lessen the impact of the sounds.

Eleven then watched, still jumping at the slight sound of the firework, before her eyes widened at what was before her. The colour was explosive. A golden pattern of stars burst into the darkness, followed by red glitter, and then green. They glinted in amazing radiance before falling and disappearing into the night. Her breathing hitched as the sky crackled again, this time with yellow and amber sparks as they fled and zipped across the blackness and faded away. Then gold, white, pink and blue; tumbling stars falling down to earth. Bright, radiant, then retiring and leaving the darkness without a trace. Her reaction was inaudible, and Mike was concerned and nervous until he felt her cheeks rise up. He dropped his hands slowly.

She was mesmerised. Having been home-schooled for two months, she had picked up a lot of information about this life she had never lived, but she couldn’t find any explanation for what she had just seen. “Mike…?” Eleven began in a hushed tone as the boy moved next to her. “How does the sky do that?”

He paused, thinking of how best to explain it, and then cleared his throat. “Um, well, basically, there’s this thing called gunpowder which is mostly potassium nitrate. A fuse is used to light the gunpowder, which ignites and sets off a charge to send the firework into the sky. Once the firework is in the air, more gunpowder inside it causes it to explode. The colours are created using metal salts, like copper makes blue and lithium makes pink, and so on.” Mike was speaking quickly now, and Eleven had long since lost the meaning behind his words, but nodded as she watched the colours explode across the sky. “And then you make different patterns if the firework is in sections, so there are different compartments which go off at different times and… yeah.” He was internally scolding himself now, realising that he had probably bored her a long time ago. A blush crept up his cheeks and down to his neck as a punishment, and he shook some of his inky hair into his face to try and cover it. “Um, that’s basically it. Sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

“Pretty.” She whispered, smiling up at the sky as the explosions gleamed and died down into nothing, leaving them in silence again for a while.

Mike looked to his left, admiring how her eyes had become so wide as she deeply admired the colours in the darkness, even though she still flinched at the sounds. “Y-Yeah, I guess so.” Her grin was subtle and barely there, her eyes still slightly glassy, but he understood that she was calmer. Mike was thankful that she could learn to forget about the labs, and the bad men, and the manipulation, even if just for a second – and that he had aided her in doing so.

“Mike…” Eleven turned her body to him slowly, her gaze not entirely fixed, but thankful and admiring. Unhurriedly, she reached out and took his hand in hers, finally getting it to stop shaking as her fingers intertwined with his, at last feeling reassured. He looked down at their fingers as they fit together, and squeezed them softly. She followed his eyes downwards and smiled gently, speaking in a tone so delicate and quiet that he almost didn’t hear her. “Happy New Year.”

He grinned, glancing up nervously to catch her eyes, watching them heal slowly before him.

“Happy New Year, El.”

**Author's Note:**

> hey everyone! this is my first ao3 fic so don't judge it too hard haha. this was super spontaneous anyway - i came up with it on new years day at 2am and just wrote and tweaked until now. reviews etc are always extremely welcome, and i welcome constructive criticism!!
> 
> the title is from 'this night has opened my eyes' by the smiths, which i believe was released on the 12th november, 1984. also, love that song and i'm sure jonathan probably had it on a mixtape...
> 
> (for the ultimate experience (???) this is what the new years gang were watching on tv as the ball dropped: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dpEv9QzZP5c )
> 
> happy new year!!!


End file.
